I don't need help
by BlueEyesMatchGreeneLies
Summary: There are currently, exactly, 15 scars all over his body. His friends are worried and want to help but Arthur thinks he doesn't need it. Written for Self-Injury Awareness Day.


Today is a Monday.  
>The time is exactly 11:23 and 12 seconds.<br>Today, at this very moment, he is exactly 6,122 days and thirteen hours old. Exactly 3,792 days ago his parents died leaving him only with his older brothers who did not know how to care for a child. Seven hundred and ninety-three days go exactly he moved into the dorm of an all boys private boarding school to escape from them. He has exactly forty thousand and fifty six words written for his book so far, a romance novel spanning from exactly the year 1982 to the year 2005.  
>Arthur Kirkland sits at his desk back straight, feet on the floor, and hands folded neatly over the hardwood making sure his elbows are not touching the surface of the desk. Perfect posture exactly as it was taught to him on page 294 of his copy of Manners for Gentleman.<br>It has been exactly twenty four minutes now since class started, exactly twenty minutes since Alfred Jones the quarter back/mathlete who also happened to be student council treasurer fell asleep, and exactly thirteen minutes since the teacher stopped caring if anyone listened to her lecture.  
>They have exactly 34 minutes left until lunch starts, at which point hell will begin for Arthur Kirkland.<br>At exactly 12 o clock in the afternoon the bell will ring releasing every student to exactly an hour of freedom before afternoon classes resume.  
>In this hour Arthur will attempt to make it to the library, his room, or the cafeteria without getting caught.<p>

There are currently, exactly, 15 scars all over his body. Four are located on each of his thighs, three are on each of his arms, and one lone scar rests on his hip. This number is exactly three more than yesterday.  
>There are exactly seven people who would know about the increase should they look. Two would merely be disappointed and saddened by the new scars, three would give him hell for it out of anger, two would be so worried he wouldn't get out of their sight for a week.<br>They would watch him like a hawk, no free time to himself. No control over his own life. The very thought is enough to make him start hyperventilating but he controls himself, a shaky sigh escaping from his lips as he slumps into the hardwood top of his uncomfortable desk by just a fraction of an inch.  
>Two heads turn to look at him and Arthur believes that what he sees are worry in their eyes. Three sets of eyes narrow in suspicion and practically strip Arthur of all his defenses right there.<br>They know.  
>He knows they know. He can see Lovino leaning over to shake Alfred awake, Gilbert scribbling out a note and then tossing it at Antonio's head causing the Spaniard to finally look away from Arthur, worst of all he can see Matthew's disappointed gaze as he catches the sight of bandages under Arthur's sleeve.<br>His fingers slide to tug up the sleeve of his jacket, covering his fist and that's when Francis's lips form a thin line showing his distaste at the whole situation.  
>Raindrops start to hit the windowpanes at exactly 11:43 am, crushing Arthur's hopes of hiding in the library or his room. He could not risk getting his bandages wet and should he try to run towards the buildings that are separate from the one he's currently in, they surely would.<br>By now, the teacher has given up her efforts and puts on the news so at least something educational is happening. The class doesn't even blink, eyes glazed over out of boredom and hunger. He can tell in his class of exactly twenty-nine students twenty-eight want nothing more than for the bell to ring and release them from the stuffy classroom. The story on the screen switches from a litter of kittens found abandoned on the highway to one of a girl who died due to blood loss.  
>She had slit her own wrists exactly ten times, and was later found by her boyfriend in her bedroom.<br>Alfred and Matthew wince at this. eyes darting to the floor. Lovino and Gilbert only seem to get more aggravated and turn their glares back on to him. Antonio is staring at Arthur in an unreadable fashion, frowning, and Arthur can almost hear what the Spaniard would say, "Are you going to wind up like her? Which one of us will be the one to find you?" Antonio would be the one to say this mainly because they all know he would be able to make Arthur feel the most guilty. At least that's what he thinks is the reason why.  
>The guilt is already starting to seep in, along with anger at all of them for not minding their own business. He clenches his fists, knuckles going white as he shuts his eyes tightly. He wants to get out of this room just to go to his own. In there is his escape, hidden inside his mattress exactly one inch inside the thing in a rip exactly four inches wide.<br>Francis moves from his seat to the empty one behind Arthur, and once there he starts to pet the Britain's head soothingly. For a second Arthur stiffens in his seat, knowing what Francis wants but unwilling to let it happen.  
>Francis wants to take care of him (they all do,) they want him to stop, they want him to accept their help.<br>They want him to give up his control.  
>Francis knows what to do in this situation and leans forward to kiss the side of Arthurs head.<br>"The world doesn't rest on your shoulders," Francis's accent thickens as he whispers into Arthur's ear, and it makes the Britain cringe slightly. A dislike of all things French is childish yes, but it's in his blood and he simply can't stop it.  
><em>Except it does.<em>  
>"We just want to help, me and all your other friends,"<br>_I have no friends._  
>"We don't like seeing you hurt yourself,"<br>_I'm helping myself._  
>"Because we love you."<br>_... No. You don't._ _If you loved me you'd leave me alone._  
>"Let us help you mon ami."<br>With a scowl Arthur pushes the French student's hands off of him. "There's nothing to help."  
>"Arthur." Francis sighs, petting the blondes head again, coaxing him to lay his head against his chest. "This isn't healthy."<br>Arthur sighs quietly, letting Francis direct his head as he flicks his gaze to all the people who could be his downfall, or should he listen to them their redemption. "I know...but it's all I have."

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading my story.<br>So since today is March 1st otherwise known as self-harm awareness day, I figured I would go ahead and post it. I'm not particularly pleased with it, but it's not horrible either so... I originally planned more and even had another character who did another form of self-injury but since I wanted to get this up by today this is it for now unless I turn this into a full length story.**  
><strong>If you have any ideas or advice for me I'd love to hear it.<strong>


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